you lift me up and catch me when I'm falling (for you)
by Tarafina
Summary: After Malia admits to Lydia that she has a crush on Scott, she contemplates telling him the truth and seeing if they can build their friendship into something else. [All-Human AU - 3-Parts]
1. nunchucks

**ship** : scott/malia  
 **prompt** : unrequited  
 **polyvore** : malia and lydia's outfits are posted on my polyvore ( **sarcasticfina** )  
 **word count** : 5,182  
 **summary** : After Malia admits to Lydia that she has a crush on Scott, she contemplates telling him the truth and seeing if they can build their friendship into something else.

* * *

 **note** : this is an All-Human AU - Malia's mom and sister still died in a car accident and she moved to Beacon Hills when she was a high school freshman. I've played around with the canon a little, but everything you need to know, you'll find out as you go.

* * *

 ** _you lift me up and catch me when I'm falling (for you)_**

* * *

 **-ONE-**

Malia is sprawled out on Lydia's bed, an open book in front of her with a collection of over-highlighted notes littering the lined pages.

At her desk, reading a book on astrophysics, Lydia makes distracted humming noises.

Fiddling with her pencil, Malia says, "Hey, Lyd...?"

It takes her a beat to pull herself out of her book, her eyes a little distant and her expression distracted. "Huh? What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You already have." Lydia closes her book and puts it aside. "Might as well add a follow-up question."

Malia chews her lip. "How do you... I mean, let's say that you liked someone... _a lot_ —"

"Are they cute?"

"What?" She frowns. "Yeah. Really cute."

"Okay." Lydia leans back in her chair and narrows her eyes. "Wait, when you say 'cute,' are we thinking like Disney Channel? Average boys with the same haircut that smile too big and look like some pre-teen's Prince Charming? Or are we talking _rugged_ cute, could be in college, definitely works out, and drives a nice car?"

"Uh..." Her brow furrows. "Same age as me, nice hair, dopey smile, great arms?"

"Ohhh..." She nods knowingly. "So, you have a crush on _Scott_."

" _No!_ " Malia sits up abruptly, panic making her stomach twist. "What? _Ew_. No. I don't have a crush on him."

"Oh, honey, please." Lydia waves dismissively. "We've all been there."

"Wait. Really?"

"Sure." Lydia shrugs. "It's hard not to have a crush on the adorkable nice guy. Plus, he's a great kisser."

Malia blinks. "I'm lost... Also, I'm trying to ask for help to get _over_ him. So, this, whatever it is, is not helping."

"It was ages ago. Total one-off." She shakes her head. "Anyway, that's not the point. Why do you want to get over him when you can get under him?"

Malia's shoulders slump. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I really don't think that's an option..."

"Why? What do you mean?" Lydia's brow furrow in confusion. " _You_ are hot. I mean, sometimes you have that weird, grungy, 'do I live in the woods or just hike there a lot?' look going on, but you work it, and that's all that matters."

"Thanks...?" Malia frowns. "Anyway, he doesn't think of me that way. And that's fine. I just... I don't know. It sucks. I really like him. I get butterflies in my stomach and my heart feels all dumb and floaty all the time. It _sucks_."

Lydia smiles. "So, what's the problem?"

"I told you. He's not into me. And, I get it. I mean, first there was Allison and then Kira and... He's got a type."

"Yeah, badass brunettes. You fit the mold perfectly." Lydia shakes her head. "I'm really not seeing a problem here. You two would be cute together."

"They're both gorgeous and crazy smart and kick ass on a regular basis. I mean, Allison does archery in her free-time and Kira can sword fight. Literally, her belt is also a katana. How is that even real? I tried yoga once and I think I pulled every muscle in my entire body."

"It always feels like that the first time." Lydia waves a dismissive hand. "Anyway, none of that even matters. It's not like archery and sword-fighting have any practical use nowadays… Besides being really cool and something you can definitely put on your college applications. And I highly doubt Scott dated them because of that."

"No, he dated them because they're cool and funny and really, really nice. Which I am definitely not."

"Define 'nice,'" Lydia says. "There are different forms of it. I mean, you always defend your friends. When Jackson broke up with me and made me feel like complete garbage, you filled his locker with tapioca pudding, which couldn't have been easy."

"It took a long time," Malia admits, thinking back on it rather fondly. "And he deserved that."

"He did." She smirks. "Just like when you snuck into the locker room and you sewed that fish into the lining of his gym bag and he couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from for _weeks_."

"I'm terrible at sewing, too. I had this giant bruise on my finger from poking it so many times…"

"See!" Lydia nods. "Those were nice things to do."

"To you. I'm pretty sure Jackson thinks I'm an asshole."

"Well, he's one, too, so who is he to judge?"

Sighing, Malia slumps, resting her elbows on her thighs. "Anyway, this whole conversation is a moot point. Stiles already told me that Scott has a crush on someone." She frowns. "I bet it's Rebecca. She has nunchucks."

Lydia stares at her a beat and then rolls her eyes. "Where is all the low self-esteem coming from? Aren't you the same girl who kills it at track and field every year? And who got a 'B' on her last math test. You should be proud of that, you worked your ass off for that 'B.'"

Malia smiles, shaking her head. "Thank you. And it's not about self-esteem, not really. I just... I don't know. When I moved here freshman year, Scott was the first person I met and he was just so... _nice_. Which I'm not, and I'm okay with that. I'm abrupt and I say the wrong thing a lot of the time, and I can be a little aggressive. It's just who I am. But, recently, I don't know what it is, but I look at him and it's like..." She sighs. "I feel happy when we're together. Like I can be myself and it's not just okay, but it's special. Like _I'm_ special. And I know that sounds weird and vague, but... Sometimes I feel like I just melt into the background. I don't need to be up front and in focus all the time. I don't mind that my fashion sense sucks, especially in comparison to you. And I'm okay with not being the smartest person in any classroom. But every once in a while, I look around and I just feel like I'm blending in. But then Scott's there and he looks at me and I feel like there's a spotlight over my head and... I don't _hate_ it."

"I didn't know you felt like that." Lydia's voice is quiet and worried. "You know you're one of my best friends, right? I love Allison and Kira and I wouldn't trade them for anything. And that goes for you, too. Would I definitely take you shopping and throw away every plaid shirt you own if you let me? Absolutely. But like I said, you make the outdoorsy thing look kind of chic." Standing from her chair, she joins her on the bed. "Malia... You don't blend in. Not from where I'm standing. You're confident and loyal and funny and a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for." She reaches for her hand and folds their fingers together. "Scott or no Scott, you're an awesome person and friend and anybody would be lucky to date you."

Malia smiles slowly. "You're not terrible at this pep-talk thing."

"Of course I'm not. I'm not terrible at anything." Lydia grins. "But seriously... I really think if you let Scott know you're interested, you'd be surprised."

She stares at her a long moment and then nods. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. Now... Enough boy talk. Let's do something fun."

"Like...?"

"Pizza with double cheese. And ice cream. Ooh, and Netflix." She bumps her shoulder against Malia's. "I'll even let you pick."

"Deal."

* * *

Malia takes the weekend to go over the pros and cons of what Lydia said. She's known Scott for three and a half years now, but her feelings only became too obvious to ignore in the last few months. Maybe it was because he and Kira broke up or maybe it was just the natural progression of things, but here she is. Contemplating telling him that she likes him. _Like_ likes him. And she's kind of, sort of, hoping maybe he likes her, too.

As far as awesome girlfriends go, he's been two for two so far. While Malia's never really been that close to either Allison or Kira, her friendships with Scott and Lydia made sure that they were at least acquaintances. And she likes them. She has nothing against either of them. He and Allison only broke up because she moved out of town in Sophomore year. And when she asked him why he and Kira hadn't worked out, he'd just said they ran their course and wanted to split up before there was no chance of still being friends.

Standing at her locker, she peeks at him from the corner of her eyes. He's down the hall, laughing at something Stiles is saying. Her heart jumps, crawling up into her throat. This is so dumb, she decides. He's just a boy. A really nice, really cute, utterly amazing boy.

Back in freshman year, they'd bumped into each other in the hallway, while she was still trying to navigate the school and feeling completely dumb for not being able to find her class. Scott, being, well, _Scott_ , helped her find it and then caught up with her at lunch to see how her day was going. It was just one simple little thing that turned into a friendship she really needed at the time and is grateful to still have. Which is part of the reason she's having an inner-freak out right now. If she does tell him she likes him and he rejects her, what is that going to mean for them? Will he start avoiding her or just be weird whenever they hang out? Or maybe it's worse than that. Maybe he'll feel obligated to be with her out of some weird sense of honor. That would be the _worst_. Ugh. She's regretting this whole thing. She never should've admitted to Lydia that she liked Scott. She wishes she could take it all back and just—

"Hey."

Malia jumps, whirling around to stare, wide-eyed, at a curiously smiling Scott. "Uh, hey... Hi... What're you doing here?"

"Going to school?" His smile widens, making his dimples pop. Which is just unfair, frankly. How is she supposed to think clearly now? "Kind of figured you'd be doing the same."

"Right. Yeah. Of course. I just meant... Here, like, my locker. Not the school."

"Uh, we have English first block. I thought we could walk together..." He stares at her searchingly. "Are you okay? You look really flushed..." He presses the back of his hand to her forehead and then her cheek. "You're a little warm…"

"I'm fine." Her voice comes out like a squeak and she coughs to clear her throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" She swats his hand away. "Sorry, uh, I'm okay, really. Just... Distracted. It's been a busy morning."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, just... Stuff." She grabs her books off the top shelf of her locker and quickly closes it. "What about you? How's your morning going?"

"Good." He nods. "I'm not looking forward to the pop quiz today, but-"

"Pop quiz?" She stares at him in horror and then slumps. "Oh _no_ … I completely forgot. I was so focused on the Math test that I completely forgot about English." Groaning, she lets her head fall back and slows her footsteps. "I'm suddenly feeling really sick. I definitely think I have some kind of flu. Or maybe bubonic plague. Whichever one will get me out of here faster."

Rolling his eyes, Scott's hand finds the small of her back and urges her forward. "Come on, you'll do fine. You've read the book and you know what you're doing."

She tips her head and pouts at him. "Can't I skip it? Just this once? I always freeze up on tests."

"No." He laughs lightly, looking ridiculously handsome as he does. "Seriously, you'll do great." He rubs her back soothingly. "I'll even make it up to you. Fries and milkshakes after school, my treat."

She pretends to consider it, even as her heart beats a little too quick and her sweaty palms slip against her books. "How big is the milkshake?"

He grins. "As big as you want."

She narrows her eyes. "I'm gonna hold you to that."

"So, you'll go?"

They're standing just outside the door to their English class and Malia sighs. "Yeah, I'll go... But when I inevitably fail and drop out of school to become a vagrant, I expect you to bring me milkshakes and fries then, too."

Shaking his head, he leads her into the room. "Promise."

Slumping into her seat in front of him, she drops her books on the desk and sighs, tucking her feet under her chair and tapping her pencil anxiously. When their teacher passes out the quiz, she feels Scott kick his foot forward to bump hers encouragingly. She smiles down at the paper and tells herself to stop being such a _sap_.

* * *

Lunch finds Malia being slightly overdramatic. "I failed." She groans, her head set on her folded arms atop the picnic table. "I'm going to have go to summer school just to graduate."

Scott rolls his eyes. "You did _not_ fail… And even if you did, it was just one quiz. You've got plenty of time to make up for it."

"Easy for you to say," she mutters. "You're gonna be an assistant lacrosse coach this summer while I'm stuck in school, dissecting old, boring books. The worst part is that no matter what I say, I never get the answer right, because all of it is just a guess at what the author really meant. Do crows mean murder and suspicion or did the writer just really like birds? We'll never know because they're all _dead_."

Scott chuckles and steals a carrot from her lunch. "I really don't think you failed, but if you're that worried, we can study for the next test together."

Malia lifts her head to peek at him, brow furrowed curiously. "Really?"

He nods. "Sure. We can break out the cue cards and your 10-pack of highlighters—"

"Oh, ha, _ha_. I do not have a ten-pack."

Grinning, he says, "You might as well."

"Whatever." Malia sits up and stabs a carrot into a small container of hummus, using it to spoon out a hefty bite. "I'll still take you up on the study session. I have plans for this summer that I don't want to miss out on."

"Yeah? What kind of plans?"

She smiles. "Paris plans."

"Paris?" His brows hike. "How'd you spin that?"

Her gaze drops. "After mom died, dad put some money away from her life insurance. There's enough to help with college, but I've been looking at police academies instead. Since it'll cost less, I convinced dad that Paris would be an awesome graduation gift. He went for it, so as soon as graduation hits, I'm on the first flight out of Beacon Hills."

" _Oh_ … Wow. That— That's awesome."

"Yeah." She grins. "I'm excited."

"You should be. What do you think you'll do first?"

"I don't know. Explore." She shrugs. "I've been working on my French. It's not perfect, but I'm getting the hang of it. Lydia helps. She's fluent. She also thinks it'll be a good chance to meet mysterious French guys, so she's all for it."

Scott coughs suddenly, his hand reaching for his throat.

Malia drops her food and jumps up, circling around the table and nervously pushing her hair behind her ears. "Are you okay?"

"F- Fine." His face turns an angry red as he continues to cough and wheeze.

Grabbing up his bag, she straddles the bench and pulls his inhaler out, giving it a hard shake. "Here. Use it."

He shakes his head, his hand tucked into the collar of his shirt. "M'okay. I just…"

"Scott!" Her hand finds his shoulder, eyes darting over his face.

He coughs against his arm and then rubs the heel of his hand against his watering eyes. "Just a piece of carrot, got stuck in my throat…" He's still a little out of breath, but his color is coming back. "Seriously." He covers her hand against his inhaler and half-smiles. "Thank you, though."

Malia isn't completely convinced, but she puts the inhaler away and reaches across the table for her water bottle. Unscrewing the top, she hands it to him. "You're sure?"

He takes it, nodding before he throws back a long drink. After, he laughs, and bangs a fist against his chest. "Now I feel dumb."

"Hardly." She rolls her eyes. "Last week, Stiles snorted like half a carton of milk. That was way dumber."

He laughs. Recapping the water bottle, he puts it on the table and says, "You got around the table pretty quick. Perk of being a track star, I guess."

Malia shrugs. "I've seen your asthma attacks. They're not pretty."

"They used to be worse. Actually, I think they're getting better…"

"If you say so." She's still looking at him like she expects him to break out into another coughing fit. The thought makes her stomach tie itself up in knots. In the time she's known Scott, he's had enough asthma attacks to warrant fear. That never stopped him from constantly trying to get on the lacrosse team, though. To be fair, he's a good player, just not a consistent one, which is why coaching makes more sense for him. He knows the game in and out and he's a good coach; he just doesn't have the lungs to play for long periods of time.

"You're doing that thing."

She frowns. "What thing?"

"That 'he better not die on me' thing you do." He half-smiles. "The same look you give me whenever we go hiking."

Malia sits back and crosses her arms. "In my defense, I had to piggy back you out of the woods once."

"Okay, but that's because I fell down a cliff."

Malia rolls her eyes and scoffs. "It was a hill!"

"And I sprained my ankle!"

"Because you and Stiles were pushing at each other and you tripped."

"Okay, I probably could've been more careful." He points at her. "But, it had nothing to do with my asthma."

"Yes, but I can probably think of at least five times where your asthma scared the shit out of me, so that hardly counts."

He pauses, staring at her curiously. "Really?"

"What do you mean 'really'? Of course it did. You literally can't _breathe_. It's kind of an essential part to living."

"Yeah, but…" He shakes his head. "I don't know. Nothing really scares you."

"That's not true. I have fears." She shrugs, dropping her gaze to her lunch and plucking a few grapes out. "Driving freaks me out. I get claustrophobic sometimes. And, y'know, rejection."

"Rejection?" His brow furrows. "From what?"

"Does there have to be a specific thing? Just rejection in general. I don't like the idea of applying myself and finding out it doesn't matter. Or I'm not good enough. Like school. My grades are passable, but I'm definitely not any college's first choice."

"If you wanted to go to college, you'd do great. You could probably get in on a sports scholarship. You're one of the best runners the track team's ever had." He shrugs. "But not going to college isn't a bad thing. The police academy would be lucky to have you."

"I appreciate the encouragement, really, but—"

"It's not encouragement, it's just the truth." Scott stares at her searchingly, his gaze soft and a quiet smile pulling at his mouth. "Malia, you—"

"Hey!" Stiles appears next to the table then, grinning at them, his thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack. "What's up? You guys look intense."

"Nothing." Malia shakes her head. "Scott was just telling me I'm going to kick some serious ass at the police academy."

"Yeah, you are." Stiles nods and takes a seat across from Scott. "And hey, maybe one day there'll be a serial killer or something and you'll have to call in the FBI." He nods excitedly. "We'll get to team up and work together!"

"Probably the only reason to be happy there's a serial killer," Scott says, looking amused.

"Well, yeah, I mean…" Stiles starts peeling and orange from his bag. "I'm not saying I hope a serial killer comes to Beacon Hills. But, if it _does_ …"

"You'll be the third person I call," Malia agrees.

"Cool. Wait, _third_?"

She smirks.

As Stiles starts rattling off questions and making a case for why he— a future top FBI agent— should be the first person she calls, Malia just shakes her head. When she catches Scott's gaze, she rolls her eyes, and he smiles back. The rest of lunch is spent discussing what even passes as a 'serial' killer before Lydia appears next to the table, shakes her head at the conversation, and takes a seat next to Stiles, telling Malia, "Your friends are weird."

"I'm pretty sure they're your friends, too."

"Only on paper. If anyone asks, I feign temporary amnesia."

Malia snorts. "Okay."

As much as Lydia likes to act like she's _above_ high school and all of its nuances, Malia knows that she values the friendship she has with each of them. Ever since things blew up with her and Jackson, Lydia's re-evaluated life and what she wanted out of it. She started basing her friendships less on status and more on whether she actually liked certain people. It effectively cut down her short list of close friends to about five: Allison, Malia, Kira, Scott, and Stiles. Proven a few minutes later, when Lydia jumps into the conversation and starts arguing with Stiles over what, historically, has qualified as 'serial' and specific cases that might meet the criteria but still don't technically fit.

Malia looks around at each of them and feels a swell of gratitude for her small group of weirdoes.

* * *

' _Malia, you_ —'

The words keep replaying in her head after lunch. Malia can't help but wonder if maybe, for just a moment, she saw something there. The way he was looking at her, the way he was talking, it felt deeper somehow. Like maybe, if Stiles hadn't interrupted, Scott was going to say something important. Or maybe she's reading into it. She can't tell. Ever since she talked to Lydia, a tiny voice in the back of her head has been encouraging her to consider the possibility that Scott might return her feelings. It seems like a long shot— to her, at least. But, the more she thinks about it, the more she hopes.

Maybe telling Scott she likes him wouldn't be the worst thing. He's one of her closest friends for a reason. He's probably the kindest person she knows, so even if he doesn't like her the same way, she's pretty sure he'll let her down nicely. Which... not the worst thing, right? And really, there's no way he'd throw away their friendship just because of a teeny-tiny crush. If he says he only likes her as a friend, then she'll just... find a way to only be his friend.

Nodding, she feels good about her decision. After school, when they're dipping salty fries in chocolate ice cream, she's going to say it. ' _I think I like you_.' No, wait. ' _I definitely like you_.' Is that clear enough? What if he thinks she means as a friend? ' _I have crush-like feelings on you_.' Okay, that just sounds weird. ' _I think we should date_.' Too aggressive? ' _I like your stupid face and all your other parts_.' Definitely aggressive. ' _I... I think I've always kind of liked you. Probably from the first moment we met. And after three and a half years, I more than like you. You're an amazing friend, but I kind of want you to be something more. If you want to be_.' Long-winded, but definitely closer than the rest.

Malia makes her way down the hall, her backpack hitched over one shoulder and her fingers absently playing with the tail-end of her messy braid. She's kind of wishing she'd talked to Lydia ahead of time, either for a pep-talk or at least to get an idea of what to say that wouldn't sound totally moronic. But, Lydia has a regularly scheduled Facetime with Allison on Mondays, so she'll just have to catch up with her after. Either way, she's sure that Lydia would tell her to go for it and stop dragging her feet. So, she plucks up her courage, takes a deep breath, and makes her way out of the school.

Scott said he'd be waiting for her in the parking lot so they could take his bike over to the diner. She's just reached the bottom of the stairs when she spots him. The parking lot is basically empty, except for a lone blue car. Malia hadn't meant to linger at the school for so long, but she had to talk to one of her teachers about an extra credit assignment that she was hoping would boost her grade a little more. Now, she's kind of wishing she'd left earlier, or maybe later, whichever one would mean not seeing what she's seeing.

Scott is standing at his bike, one hand gripped around a handle, while the other is on the waist of Rebecca, who's standing on the tips of her toes as she kisses Scott. Her arms are looped around his neck, fingers combing through his hair, and it's, well... _intimate_. In a way only a kiss really can be. Like the whole world is just white noise and there's only the person right in front of you.

Malia feels her heart fall into her stomach like a lead rock. It's dumb. She has absolutely no claim on Scott. He's her friend. He's only ever been her friend. But, for a moment she thought _maybe_... Maybe they could make sense. Maybe he could like her as much as she liked him. Maybe there was something more there.

Obviously not.

Turning on her heel, she strides away from the sight as quickly as she can, her head ducked and her stomach in knots. She circles around the side of the school just to get out of sight and then she digs her phone out of her pocket and fires off a quick text.

—' _Hey, sorry, can't make it to the diner. I really need to start this extra credit assignment. Rain check?_ '

With that, she shoves her phone away and starts walking. It's not a short trek, but if she crosses the lacrosse field and cuts through the woods to the walking path, it'll get her home faster than the bus will. Plus, it means not having to cross the parking lot and see Scott and Rebecca sucking each other's faces off.

She wants to be happy for him. In fact, she tells herself she will be. Just as soon as she stops feeling completely stupid.

* * *

"Wait, _what?_ " Lydia makes a disgruntled noise on the other end of the phone. "Are you sure it was him?"

Malia rolls her eyes. She's sprawled out on her bed, throwing a ball at the ceiling and catching it as it falls. "I think I know what Scott looks like. It was him, standing by his bike, kissing Rebecca."

"And it was mutual? It wasn't like... I don't know, she just attacked his mouth like some kind of succubus?"

"Pretty sure those aren't real, and also, yeah, it looked pretty mutual."

Lydia sighs. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I encouraged you. I told you to go for it! But, I really thought..."

"Hey, it's fine." She shrugs. "I mean, it stings. But, it's okay. Maybe it's good."

"How could it possibly be _good?_ "

"I can get over him now... That's what I wanted, right? It'll be easier this way. We can just be friends and not mess anything up with feelings or weirdness." She shakes her head. "And Rebecca's really cool."

"Okay, you are being way too accommodating. We could at least talk shit about the new girlfriend! She probably won't even last a week."

Malia laughs. "We both know that's not true. Scott is a serial monogamist." Sighing, she rolls herself over to sit on the edge of her bed. "Seriously, it's okay. I mean, it hurts and it sucks and I definitely don't ever want to feel this way again. But... I'll live. You know?"

"Yeah." Lydia's voice grows firm then as she decides, "It's his loss, anyway. You would've been an awesome girlfriend. And if he can't see that, then he doesn't know what he's missing."

Malia smiles.

"You know what else? There are plenty of cute, funny, nice guys at our school. Or, well, at least a handful. Unless you'd be willing to date someone from college, and then the pool is much bigger."

Her brow furrows. "Huh?"

"I am getting you a date. I've just decided. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

"Yeah, I'm not sure..."

"No, trust me. When I was getting over Jackson, the best decision I made was taking my independence back. And hooking up with the hottest guys around."

"What? _No._ No offense, but I don't think hooking up with someone else is going to just magically fix this."

"Maybe it won't, _but_ , it can help you let go and move forward. It reminds you that there are other people out there that like you. I'm not saying you should hop into bed with the first cute face you see. I'm just saying that Scott McCall, as great as he is and as much as you clearly like him, is just one guy and there are going to be a ton more."

"You're probably right. But I just don't think I'm ready. And I really don't want to start seeing someone when I still like some one else. That just feels wrong."

"Trust me, not everyone's looking for a long-term commitment, and you don't have to either. But, I will leave it up to you... I'll probably still introduce you to a few people I think you'd like, but it's totally your choice if you wanna take it anywhere."

Figuring that's probably the best she'll get out of Lydia for the moment, she sighs. "Okay. Thank you."

"Of course. You know I'm always here for you, right?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, tell me how your English test went."

Groaning, Malia falls back against her bed. But, as much as she laments having to take a test at all, it's a nice distraction. She won't lie. Realizing her crush on Scott is not reciprocated stings, a lot, but Lydia's right. She'll heal and she'll meet someone else. And sure, maybe they won't be exactly what or who she's looking for, but that's okay. Eventually, she'll get over him. And they can just be the friends they were always meant to be. She just wishes that part could speed-up because having a broken heart completely _sucks_.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _this was originally part of my scalia oneshot collection on ao3_ _—_ _"you're the only one (i have left)"_ _—_ _but it became a lot longer so i've decided to post it as its own story. as of right now, it's planned to be 3-parts. the second part is completed and will be posted shortly._

 _i know we're a pretty small group of shippers, but it can be frustrating to spend so much time writing and get so little feedback. i really appreciate everyone who consistently leaves a review, but i'm going to ask that those of you who don't to please try to leave a comment!_

 _thank you,_  
\- **Lee | Fina**


	2. meteor shower

**polyvore** : malia and lydia's outfits are posted on my polyvore ( **sarcasticfina** )  
 **word count** : 6,536

* * *

 ** _you lift me up and catch me when I'm falling (for you)_**

* * *

 **-TWO-**

Malia is avoiding Scott. She doesn't mean to, exactly, it just kind of happens. After the whole kissing Rebecca _thing_ and her bailing on him and basically running home like a heartbroken loser, she's just not up to facing him. It's not his fault. She tells herself this, repeatedly. As far as he's concerned, Malia's just his friend. She has no reason to be upset with him. That might be the part that hurts the most, though. The lead up to it all, the hope she felt building inside of her. The idea that maybe, somehow, he might return the feelings that have been dogging at her heels for so long. And then it was spelled out for her just how wrong she was.

It's a little humiliating. And it's not helped by Lydia who, despite clearly wanting to cheer her up, seems to be throwing half the school population at Malia every time she turns around.

"This is Mason. Mason, this is my beautiful and very single friend Malia."

"Hey, Mason." Malia looks directly at Lydia as she adds, "And hi Corey, Mason's boyfriend."

Lydia frowns, then looks to the boy awkwardly waving from behind Mason. "Uh, hey. You run track with my sister, right?"

"Yeah. She's good." Malia half-smiles. "She's joining up this year, right? Try-outs are next week."

"As far as I know, yeah."

Mason looks from Corey to Malia to Lydia. "Sorry, was there something else you needed me for, or…?"

"No. It's fine. You can go." Lydia waves him off dismissively. Once he's out of hearing range, she turns on Malia and clasps her hands together. "All right, I might've messed that one up. _But_ , he has a friend!"

"Good for him. I'm currently looking for a new friend, to replace the one I had that has clearly lost her _mind!_ "

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. I'm just trying to help you. And besides, this gives me something to do. I'm basically already finished my classes and I've been working as a TA for a couple of my teachers for extra credit and a few letters of recommendation. It's leaving me a lot of free time."

Malia stares at her. "Lydia, I love you like a sister— an obnoxiously smart sister that doesn't know when to butt out of my life. But seriously, I don't want to be set up with anyone. I just want to pass math and English and basically all of senior year, and then fly off to Paris and forget all of this ever happened." She snaps her locker shut and turns on her heel to walk away.

"For the record, I also love you like an incredibly stubborn, totally oblivious sister that doesn't appreciate all my hard work and dedication!" Lydia calls after her.

Malia chooses to ignore that one.

* * *

Malia's learned not to look at her phone. In the three days since taking off from the school, she's successfully avoided seeing or talking to Scott. It's not a long-term plan, obviously. She still wants to be his friend. It's just… Mildly terrifying. Like, leaning over a cliff a little too far, knowing her body is going to freeze while that swooping sensation of impending death fills her, only to pull herself back before she can actually tip over and become a Malia-shaped pancake. Like that, but less morbid.

She got too close. Too hopeful. Too invested in the idea of _them_.

And she feels stupid.

So yes, she hears her phone buzz with a text, but she doesn't look at it. If it's really important, which it probably isn't— this is Beacon Hills, after all; nothing big ever happens around here— then they'll call. When the phone doesn't ring, she relaxes, focusing back on her math notes. Tomorrow is the big test and she doesn't want to royally screw it up. She has Paris to look forward to. Which means _no_ summer school.

Malia's nose-deep in her notes when she hears a rattling noise at her window that makes her jump. Heart pounding in her chest, she slides off her bed and takes a quick scan of her room for something she can use as a weapon. All she comes up with is a tennis racket she hasn't used since a failed attempt Freshman year at joining anything other than track. Still, she grabs it up and moves toward her window, like she expects it to swing open and whoever's on the other side will just lean in and take a racket to the face.

Actually, that's exactly what happens.

And then Stiles falls backwards, gripping his nose and groaning. "What the _hell_ , Malia?!"

"You're the one sticking your head in people's windows, idiot!" Malia leans out the window to frown at him. "Is it broken?"

"No. I don't think so." He sits up and rubs at his tender nose carefully. "Is it bleeding?"

Malia shakes her head. "I think you're good."

"Yeah, well, you're a hazard. I texted you like an hour ago to tell you I was coming over."

Malia grimaces. "I didn't see it."

Standing, he dusts himself off. "Why's that? Maybe because you're avoiding _everybody's_ texts like some kind of hermit."

Rolling her eyes, she says, "I'm studying for the test tomorrow. It's a big deal."

He purses his lips at her, unconvinced. "Tell me the truth."

"What truth? I really am studying." She waves a hand back in her room, at her math book and notes spread out on her bed. "I need to do well on this test."

Squinting at her, he relaxes a little. "So, that's it? You're not avoiding everybody for some other reason?"

"What do you mean?" Her brow furrows. "I talked to Lydia this afternoon. I told her I'd be busy."

"Yeah, I know, it's just…" Stiles shifts his feet around. "I was talking to Scott and he mentioned he hasn't really heard from you." He waves his hands awkwardly before eventually putting them on his hips. "I was just wondering."

"About what?"

"Well, if maybe you were… I don't know. Avoiding him for some reason." He looks to the left of her, past her shoulder, and frowns. "Are you?"

Malia stares at him a beat. "Lydia told you, didn't she?"

He winces. "What? _No_ …"

Malia raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, she might've hinted that something was up with you and it had something to do with Scott. I put two and two together and, well…"

"Came up with what, exactly?" Leaning back in her room, she crosses her arms. "What exciting conclusion did you come to?"

Stiles stares at her searchingly and taps one of his feet. "Is falling for a friend really that weird? You spend a lot of time together. You get to know each other's habits, the good stuff and the bad. The line blurs pretty easy after that…"

Malia's gaze falls and she turns her head away. "Can we _not_ talk about this?"

Sighing, Stiles moves closer to the window and crouches down to rest his arms on the sill. "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm not just Scott's best friend. I'm yours, too."

Malia's chest squeezes. "I know."

"Can you at least tell me what happened? I mean, what changed? Why are you avoiding him now? It's kind of out of the blue…"

She frowns. "Not really."

"You two were pretty cozy on Monday. You were gonna go on your fries and milkshake date after school." He shakes his head. "Did I miss something?"

Malia frowns. "You're the one that told me he had a crush on someone."

His brow furrows. "Wait, I'm lost… What happened between milkshakes and Tuesday? It had to have happened then because the most I've seen of you since then is a quick glance before you turn tail and run."

Groaning, she lets her head fall back. "Why is this a big deal?"

"My two best friends aren't talking and I'm pretty sure it's some weird miscommunication like we're stuck in a mediocre teen drama on The CW. The quicker we clear the air, the sooner we can go back to normal."

Her stomach twists a little. _Normal_. As in, before Malia had a massive crush on Scott. Before she spent a whole weekend weighing out the pros and cons and let herself dream, just a little, about what it might be like. Hand holding and kisses and dates. Connecting with someone in a way she never really has. Intimacy and want and desire and _love_. For a little while, that seemed attainable. And really, it still is. Just… not with who she wants to share it with.

"Look, everything will go back to normal after I do my math test, okay? I'm stressed and weird and things are just feeling a lot more intense than usual."

Stiles stares up at her, searching her face for… something. "Are you okay?"

"I'm—" _Hurt and sad and confused and mortified._ "—tired." Her shoulders slump. "I've been studying non-stop for the last couple weeks. Lydia, despite having really good intentions, is kind of driving me crazy. And I really just want to do this test and forget this entire week. So, please, Stiles, just let it go."

He frowns, but nods. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"It is."

He stands then. "If you change your mind though and you want to talk about it… I'm here."

Touched, she nods. "I know."

"Good." He waves a thumb over his shoulder. "I should go. But, this weekend, we should hang out. All of us. See a movie, get dinner, _something_."

"Yeah. That sounds good."

He half-smiles at her, still looking unsure and concerned, but he waves and walks away.

Because she asked him to.

When she hears the whir of his Jeep's engine and the crunch of gravel as he leaves her driveway, she stands. Pushing her window closed and locking it, she makes her way back to her bed and grabs up her math notes. But the words all blue together as her eyes start to sting. She hates that it hurts this much. That she _feels_ this much.

She wishes she could go back to before she realized she'd liked Scott and just cut it off at the root. It would've saved her a lot of time and pain.

* * *

The first spark starts from the moment they meet—

 _Malia's holding a wrinkled piece of paper with the office secretary's scribbled list of her classes and what room they're in. She fails to tell Malia where those classrooms might be located. Or that the numbered classrooms could suddenly jump ahead by a whole hundred, which leaves her standing between Room 104 and 204, wondering where 106 is. She turns on her heel, frustrated and ready to snark at the secretary, when she suddenly collides with another body._

 _They bounce off each other and when she steps back, still pissed at just how dumb her entire morning has been, she stalls. The boy looking back at her is cute— floppy brown hair, crooked smile, and warm brown eyes. Her throat seizes for a moment and she actually loses her breath._

 _"Hey, sorry, I didn't see you." He hooks his thumbs in the straps of his bag and then looks down, to the paper she's holding. "Are you new?"_

 _"I…" She nods, a little wide-eyed, and then clears her throat and shakes it off. "Yeah. And I'm a little lost. I was supposed to be in my first class like ten minutes ago."_

 _He huffs a laugh. "Me, too. Can I…?" He reaches for her paper and she lets him have it. Looking it over, he nods. "I know where this is. I can show you."_

 _"Are you sure?" Her brow furrows. "You're already late."_

 _"A few more minutes won't hurt… Plus, this place is kind of confusing. I only know my way around because of Freshman orientation. They kind of drill it into you."_

 _"Yeah, I missed that. It was a last-minute transfer."_

 _"It's this way…" He starts walking back the way he came and Malia joins him. "So, did you just move here or…?"_

 _"No. I was gonna go to school downtown, but this place is closer." She shrugs. "What about you? Lived here long?"_

 _"My whole life." He nods. "Are you looking forward to it?"_

 _"High school?" She shrugs. "I don't know. New school, no friends, not exactly starting off on the best foot."_

 _"It's gotta be better than middle school…"_

 _"Either the best or worst four years of your life, that's what they say, right?"_

 _"Yeah. I'm hoping for the latter." He grins._

 _Malia smiles in return._

 _He looks up then and points. "This is your class."_

 _Malia turns to the door, checks the number, and nods. "Thanks for this. I'd probably still be wandering in the 200's."_

 _"No worries. I'm Scott, by the way. Scott McCall."_

 _"Oh. Yeah, I'm Malia Tate." She waves and immediately feels like a doofus. "Thanks for the help."_

 _"Sure." He ducks his head and smiles. "See you around."_

 _"Yeah, you, too."_

 _Malia lingers outside of her classroom, watching as he turns on his heel and walks down the hallway, en route to his own class. Feeling a little less annoyed at life and everything it throws at her, she makes her way into her classroom, hoping she might see Scott McCall sometime soon._

 **.**

The first sign of a crush sneaks up on her. It's all in the little things—

 _The summer before Sophomore year, Malia comes down with a massive flu. It kicks her ass for a good month. Her head pounds, her nose leaks, her ears throb, and her throat feels like hell-fire. It's entirely too hot out and all Malia has is a ceiling fan to keep her from completely suffocating. She lays in bed, breath rattling and shallow, in a pair of loose shorts and a sports bra, willing herself to either sleep or die, she is_ that _sick. Her dad does what he can when he's not working; stocks the cupboards with soup and makes sure she has plenty of crackers and water and juice. But, as much as she knows those things are available, right there in her house, she can't gather up the energy to leave her bed._

 _The most she musters is reaching for the tissues she keeps in reach and popping another cough drop in her mouth to stave off the_ murder _this flu is having on her throat._

 _She falls in and out of sleep, waking up to find herself both sweating up a storm and shivering. She pulls her blanket around herself and cries herself back to sleep._

 _It's just after noon when she wakes up to a distant clanging noise. Her eyes are unfocused and her nose is plugged. The cough drop she was sucking on before she fell asleep is a tiny sliver, lodged between her teeth and her cheek. After she peels her dry tongue off the roof of her mouth, she grimaces at finding it tastes like dried cotton._

 _A small part of her wonders if there's an intruder in her house. She can see what time it is on the clock beside her bed, which mean it's not her dad. Another part of her wonders if the intruder might not be doing her a favor by putting her out of her misery._

 _But then her bedroom door creaks open and it's not a mass-murdering psychopath. Instead, it's Scott, carrying a steaming bowl of soup between his fingers, a pack of crackers under one arm and a bottle of Gatorade under the other._

 _She's not the least bit ashamed to say she absolutely cries._

 _His brows hike and his eyes widen. "Hey, hey, hey… It's chicken noodle!"_

 _She laughs at that, only to break into a hacking cough._

 _Scott quickly puts everything down on her bedside table and then reaches out for her, rubbing at her back. "You okay?"_

 _She nods, wiping her face on her shoulder. "'m hungry," she mumbles._

 _He grins at that. "Thought you might be. Whenever I'm sick, my mom makes me soup and crackers. You weren't answering my texts, so I thought I'd check on you."_

 _Staring up at him, she feels her heart give a little tug. Either that or her flu has moved into her lungs and they may or may not be collapsing._

 _"Here. I'll help you sit up."_

 _It takes some maneuvering. Her body is exhausted literally all the time these days. But he gets her situated with a few pillows tucked behind her back and then puts her soup in her lap. He opens up the crackers so she can crumble them up and add them before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I got you some ice cream, too. You said your throat's been bugging you, so I thought it'd help."_

 _She knows she's staring at him starry-eyed then, but she can't help it. This is literally the nicest thing someone's ever done for her. "What kind?" she asks, her voice a strained croak._

 _"Cherry Garcia."_

 _She smiles. That's her favorite._

 _"If you're up for it, I thought we could put a movie on and just hang out. I won't get offended if you fall asleep on me."_

 _Malia fills her mouth with soup and lets the hot broth sooth her throat as she nods. "I'd like that."_

 _For the rest of the day, Scott hangs around. He even pulls her waste basket over so she can shove all her used tissues into it. They sit together on her bed, watching Netflix. And when she inevitably falls asleep with her head on his shoulder, he lets her, tucking the blanket in around her._

 **.**

It's far from the only time he's made her feel special. Malia can't even begin to list all the times he's gone out of the way to help her study or cheered her on at track meets or been there for her when she was missing her mom and Kylie. Scott's been there for the last three and a half years of milestones. He's been her rock and her shoulder and her _best_ friend.

And being his best friend means being there for him when he's going through rough times too—

 _Allison has to move at the end of their sophomore year. It's not a huge surprise; her family tends to move a lot. But it does leave Scott in a weird place. That summer, he's a little more distant, not as excited to hang out. Stiles makes an effort; he's always there to try and pull Scott out of whatever spiraling mood he finds himself in. They've known each other for so long that sometimes Malia is slightly intimidated by how well they understand each other. They're more like brothers than friends._

 _By early August, though, Stiles scores a trip to DC where he gets to join a seminar directed at youth interested in joining law enforcement. Specifically, the FBI. It's a pretty big deal; he had to go through a rigorous pre-test to qualify and managed to excel, bypassing most others and earning himself a spot. While Scott and Malia are excited for him, it means that he won't be around for the last month of summer. Which, in turn, means Malia and Scott are left to their own devices._

 _She finds herself at his place at one in the afternoon, pushing open his bedroom door to find the floor littered in laundry, an empty pizza box on his desk, and him still sleeping. "This is pathetic."_

 _Scott, not as asleep as he looked, groans. "Leave me alone."_

 _"You can't spend the rest of summer moping."_

 _"You're only saying that because Stiles is gone and Lydia's visiting Allison in Portland."_

 _"Yeah, Scott, you're my third favorite and last resort." She rolls her eyes. "Look, it sucks. Allison was great and your heart is totally broken. It's mush on the bottom of her shoe."_

 _Lifting his head, he frowns at her. "You suck at this."_

 _"At what?"_

 _"Comforting people."_

 _"Oh. I wasn't trying to." She shrugs. "We have a month left until we have to go back to school…_ School _, Scott. Do you want to waste it away in your smelly bedroom eating stale pizza and weeping?"_

 _"I'm not weeping… And it doesn't stink in here."_

 _She raises an eyebrow. "Clearly, you've just gotten used to the smell, but you really need to crack a window."_

 _Sighing, he falls back to the bed. "This sucks…"_

 _"Yeah. It does." She tucks her hands in the pockets of her shorts. "Now, shower and meet me downstairs. There's a Disney movie marathon. They're playing the old Robin Hood, the one with the fox."_

 _Scott looks up at her. "I love that movie."_

 _"I know." She walks to the door then. "So?"_

 _Sighing, he rolls himself out of bed. "Showering…"_

 _"Good."_

 **.**

Still, as much as all of those things could just be chalked up to friendship. But there were moments, when his hand lingered at the small of her back, or when their fingers bumped while they dug around in a popcorn bowl, or when he brushed her hair out of her eyes, or when he hugged her just a little too long— moments where she wondered if he was still thinking about them after they ended, if a lump had filled his throat and butterflies scored his stomach. If he counts the seconds between when their hands brush or feels his heart climb into his throat when she stands a little too close. If he knows her by something as simple as scent—he's been wearing the same cologne for two years now—or her laugh—his sounds so distinct to her—or if his skin feels warm when she touches him—she swears she can feel the ghost of his fingers hours after a simple touch.

She knew all of these things and she buried them. Shrugged them off and avoided looking too deeply. But then, a few months ago, after he and Kira officially broke up, something inside of her just _stopped_. It stopped pretending and hiding and making excuses.

It woke up—

 _They're laying on their backs in the lacrosse field, shoulder to shoulder. Malia's hands are stacked atop her stomach as she tilts her chin up and admires the sky. Stiles is passed out in a heap a few feet away from them, using his balled up sweater as a pillow. There's a meteor shower, that's what has them awake this late at night, laying in damp grass._

 _"Are you sure you got the date right?"_

 _"Yeah. I mean, mostly…" Scott's brow furrows. "It should be coming any minute now."_

 _"And we wanted to see this because…?"_

 _"Because it's cool." He shrugs. "What else were we gonna do?"_

 _"Sleep. I'm a big fan of sleep."_

 _"Says the same girl who wanted to get up at 6 am on a Saturday to go_ hiking!"

 _"I offered to make trail mix. And I said we didn't have to take the hard trails."_

 _"What does that even_ mean? _"_

 _"Think of like the bunny slopes, but in a forest."_

 _Scott shakes his head. "Anyway, I thought it'd be cool to do something different. Watching a meteor shower counts."_

 _"Can you wish on them?"_

 _He turns toward her, brow furrowed. "Huh?"_

 _"You know, like a shooting star. Multiplied by like a lot. So, technically, I should get multiple wishes."_

 _Scott's smile is slow and warm. "I don't think that's how it works."_

 _"Why not?" She frowns. "If I'm spending my whole Saturday night laying in wet grass, I should get a wish."_

 _He stares at her. "What would you wish for?"_

 _Malia doesn't answer right away, her gaze skittering back to the sky. "Cliched stuff that can't come true. To see my mom and Kylie again. To apologize for being such an asshole when I was a kid… That my dad would be happy… For your lungs to work better… You know, stuff only magic fixes."_

 _"You'd waste a wish on my lungs?" His brows hiked. "Why?"_

 _"Peace of mind." She smiles back at him. "What would you wish for?"_

 _"My mom, mostly. That she wouldn't have to work so hard or worry all the time… That my dad would get help, stay sober, that kind of thing…" His gaze falls. "I'd wish for you, too."_

 _"Yeah? I don't know, my lungs are pretty great."_

 _He half-smiles, but his eyes are still serious. "No, just that… You'd be happy. That you'd forgive yourself. I know you don't like talking about it. That you still blame yourself for what you said to them before they left, but… You were a kid. You didn't make the accident happen."_

 _Malia blinks quickly as her eyes burn. "That's a pretty big wish. Might take a_ few _meteors to pull that off."_

 _"Lia…" He reaches up, lightly tugging on her hair so she'll look at him._

 _She shifts her head to see him, acutely aware that they are incredibly close. She can almost count all of his eyelashes, ridiculously long as they are. Her breath stutters and her heart beats a little too quick. His eyes are soft and kind and she wonders what he sees reflected on her face._

 _"I… I would use up a whole meteor shower if it meant you could be happy."_

 _She swallows the lump in her throat. "I am. Maybe not all the time. And I don't know if I'll ever totally be over the accident. But… I am happy."_

 _He nods ever so slightly, his gaze still caught with hers. And then he grins and turns his face upward. "Look."_

 _Malia's does, only to see a streak of white cut across the sky. It's beautiful._

 _They continue to watch, anticipating the next meteor. When it comes, his hand finds hers and squeezes. And she thinks about telling him that_ he _makes her happy. His friendship and his support and just knowing him has made her a better person from the moment they met. That she's not sure who or where she'd be in her life without him. But, she's really glad she doesn't have to find out._

 _She doesn't say that, though. Instead, she watches the sky and she holds his hand and she knows nothing is going to be the same._

* * *

Because the universe is a giant bag of assholes, Malia finds herself paired up with Rebecca in history the following morning. The one good thing is that she's already finished her math test and she's almost sure she didn't fail. She doesn't expect to walk away with an A, but all of her extra studying really helped to keep her from freezing up. So, she's in a pretty good mood when she walks into history. Until the teacher says that they're going to work on a project and he'll be picking their partners.

"Rebecca, you're with Malia."

Malia tenses in her seat. She's staring at the outline for the project so hard that the words start to blur.

The teacher continues pairing everyone up and Malia can distantly hear the scrape of chairs as people trade seats. Abruptly, the chair in front of her is pulled back and turned so Rebecca can sit on it while facing Malia.

She smiles, showing off pearly white teeth. Her hair is pulled up in a loose pony tail, tendrils of wavy brown hair falling to frame her face. She drops her books down at the top of Malia's desk and says, "I don't know about you, but I _hate_ group projects. I'm just glad we get to hand this one in. I freeze up when I have to talk in front of the class."

Malia nods a little stiffly. "Yeah, I'm not a fan either."

"So, I thought we could pick a topic and then split up the questions and work on it independently over the weekend. If we have any problems, we can just text or email to figure it out. Then, on Monday, we can get back together and see how it flows. I know it's not due until next Friday, but I figure if we get started early, we can get it out of the way. How does that sound?"

"Sure. That's fine."

"Great!" Rebecca flips through her notebook and tears off a corner of paper. She scrawls out her phone number and email before passing it over.

Malia digs a pad of sticky notes out of her pen case, packed full of multi-colored highlighters. She passes a blue note with her information to Rebecca, who puts it on the back of the project outline and grins.

After that, they spend the period going over the questions and splitting them equally between each other. Malia's always found history boring; she's more of an in-the-moment kind of person and has little interest in learning about anything that isn't currently affecting her. She's also not looking super forward to spending her weekend on this project, but the sooner it gets done, the sooner she and Rebecca no longer have to interact. Which, at the moment, feels like a great idea. Maybe in a few weeks or months, when avoiding her and Scott is no longer possible, she'll be more open to making friends. But right now, the wound is a little too raw.

At the end of class, Malia is ready to race out of the room and be done with school entirely. The crowd keeps her from doing just that. She and Rebecca are jostled by students both in the class and in the hallway. When they finally have a chance to split apart, Rebecca smiles back at her, "Text me if anything comes up!"

Malia nods, waving awkwardly. When she turns around, she spots Scott across the hallway. He stares back at her, his brow furrowed. Stiles is beside him, hands gesturing wildly as he talks. She keeps his gaze for a moment that feels like an hour. Slowly, his mouth pulls up in a half-smile and he flicks his fingers at her in 'hello.'

Malia feels a knock to her shoulder; it pulls her attention away. She uses the moment to flee, leaving Scott behind in favor of making it to her locker. Relieved that it's lunch time, she shoves her books onto the top shelf and grabs her bag. All she wants is a break, from everyone and everything.

* * *

Malia is sitting on the lacrosse stands eating her lunch, mouth full of sandwich, when she spots Lydia walking toward her, a girl in tow. Her chest heaves and deflates and she swallows down a too-big lump of food, contemplating how obvious it would be if she up and ran away. Considering she's halfway up the stands and the only person in the area, she feels like it'd be obvious. That doesn't stop her from shoving the rest of her lunch back in her bag and walking down the stands, hopping down the benches two at a time.

"Malia!" It's a testament to how bullheaded Lydia is that she's able to cross the field in high heels that quickly.

Sighing, Malia drops down to the grass and forces a smile. "Lydia, former best friend and current crazy-pants."

Lydia rolls her eyes. "This is Piper. Piper, this is Malia. She runs track in her free time, can eat her weight in junk food, and loves action movies."

"I'm also a Sagittarius." Malia rolls her eyes. "Are you still pimping me out?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not getting any money for this. Even though I _should_ , given how much time and effort I'm putting in."

"I'm a Virgo," Piper says. "I was also under the impression that you were looking for tickets to a concert this weekend… I have two up for grabs since my girlfriend is sick and can't go."

"Wait, girlfriend?" Lydia turns to her, brows hiked. "You're in a relationship?"

"Yeah. I did mention that, but you were pretty distracted." Piper digs around in her purse and comes up with a pair of tickets. "Still interested?"

Malia plucks them from her fingers. "Who's singing?"

"An all-female indie band. They're pretty new but I like their sound. Concert's tonight and I'm kind of desperate to get rid of them, so I'll sell them to you for $60."

Malia shrugs. "Sure. Mostly to make up for Lydia being a total weirdo." She pulls her wallet out of her bag and hands over three twenties.

Piper laughs. "It's fine." She tucks the money in her pocket and adds, "I'm actually pretty flattered." With a wink, she leaves.

Malia turns to Lydia, brows raised. "Seriously?"

"In my defense, she was _really_ cute."

"Okay, but I thought we talked about not trying to hook me up with everyone you meet."

"Not _everyone_. Just the cute, nice ones." She stares at her seriously. "You'd be surprised how few people actually fit in that category."

"I would, because I feel like I've met them all over the last four days."

Lydia sighs. "I just want to cheer you up. You've been mopey and distant all week."

"I was just busy and—"

"Malia." Lydia reaches out to her, hands gently squeezing Malia's forearms. "I know, okay? I know what it feels like to be rejected and hurt and to think you'll never get over it. But, you will. And I'm just trying to speed up the process so you don't have to go through the months of self-doubt and depression that I did."

"It was a little different for you. I have a crush that blew up in my face, you had a real relationship."

"Love has a way of screwing us all over equally."

Malia's face falls. "I'm not in love with him."

Lydia smiles knowingly and hooks her arm through Malia's. "So, what should we wear to this concert?"

"We? I seem to remember buying those tickets all on my own."

Lydia scoffs dismissively. "As if you'd want to go with anyone else." She raises her chin thoughtfully. "We'll get ready at my place. I can do your make up… and your hair… and pick your outfit."

Malia rolls her eyes. "You can do exactly _one_ of those things, so choose wisely."

Grinning, Lydia nods. "I can work with that."

* * *

Come the end of school, Malia found Stiles standing next to her locker. She wasn't sure how he got there so fast, but he was. Without so much as a greeting, he says, "It's 'tomorrow.'"

"I know." She unlocks her comm. and swings her locker open. Shifting her books around, she makes sure she has everything for her history project and files it into her backpack. Grabbing out her jacket, she pulls it on, and frowns at him. "I think I did all right on my math test."

"Yeah?" He smiles. "Good for you."

"Thanks."

"So, that means you're not stressing out anymore, right? Week's over, test is done, so you can stop ghosting us."

Malia's gaze falls as she busies herself checking the time on her phone before tucking it in her jacket pocket. "I'm not ghosting you."

"Okay, that's up for debate. But, you said you'd fix things with you and Scott, so—"

"There's nothing to fix." She looks up at him. "Nothing is broken."

He frowns, his head cocked. "Malia, I really think if you two just talk this out everything could stop being weird. He's gonna understand. He won't hold it against you that you don't—"

"Malia!"

She turns to find Lydia walking toward her, towing a boy by the wrist. "Oh my God…" she moans. "Lydia, we talked about this."

"I know, I was there. But, I already mentioned this morning that Mason has a friend and _this_ … is him." She waves a hand to the boy next to her, his hair a little too long and his shoulders hunched awkwardly.

"What pre-school did you find him at?" Malia snarks.

The boy looks up abruptly, his brow furrowed. "I'm a sophomore."

Malia hits Lydia with a withering look, but then looks at the boy. "I'm sorry, strange boy whose name I don't know—"

"Liam. Uh, Liam Dunbar." He nods. "Lydia said you had tickets to see Killer Coyote tonight."

"Yes! She does," Lydia says. "And she has one free one, which means you two can go _together_."

"Go where?" Scott suddenly appears in front of them, standing next to Stiles and looking around the group curiously.

"To a concert." Lydia smiles sharply. "Liam here—" She pats his chest for emphasis. "—is going to be Malia's _date_."

Scott pauses for a moment, then looks at Liam, who grins up at him awkwardly. "Uh, hey, Scott."

"Dunbar," he greets flatly, before turning a look on Malia. "I thought we were going to a movie."

Malia frowns and looks to Stiles. "Uh…"

"Yeah, you are. Tomorrow night. The concert is tonight, so… Malia has Saturday free. Don't you?" Stiles knocks his arm against Malia's elbow.

"Um, sure. Saturday works." She shakes her head slowly. "I don't even know what's playing, though."

"Don't worry about it. Just be ready for Saturday." Stiles pats her shoulder and then turns, taking Scott by the arm and towing him away.

Scott still looks confused, his brow furrowed as he looks back at her over his shoulder.

Malia watches him go before eventually returning her attention to Liam, who is having a silent facial-war with Lydia.

Finally, he turns to look at Malia. "So, you and McCall are, uh, friends?"

"Yeah." She frowns. "How do you know him?"

"Lacrosse. He's sort of an acting coach most of the time. He's a lot nicer than Finstock." Rubbing a hand down his arm, he shrugs and says, "Tonight then? I don't have a car, but, I can probably meet you there…"

Malia rolls her eyes. She feels cornered now. She still wants to go to the concert and if she doesn't go with Liam that will seem weird, right? Scott literally just listened to them make plans to go together, so if she bails he'll ask questions. Besides, Lydia might not be totally wrong about moving on. She doesn't think Liam's who she'll end up moving on with, but at least his taste in music doesn't suck.

"I'll pick you up." She digs her phone out of her pocket and opens it to her contacts list. "Add your info, I'll text you when I'm on my way over."

Liam nods. "Cool."

While he types everything in, Malia raises an eyebrow at Lydia, who's grinning at her. "Just trust me," she says.

And despite the predicament she finds herself in—despite four days of being introduced to people she doesn't want to date—despite the fact that Malia would much rather be at home wallowing—

She does, in fact, trust Lydia.

So, with a resigned sigh, she takes her phone from Liam and says, "See ya tonight, Nickelodeon."

Which, all right, not the kindest thing she could've said. But then, he should probably get used to that early if he plans on spending a whole evening out with her.

* * *

 **tbc**

* * *

 **author's note** : _for anybody concerned, there will be no romance or spark between malia and liam. this is a hundred percent scott/malia. but he does add an interesting spin and insight on things. :)_

 _for anybody curious, i faceclaim_ _haley pullos as piper and samantha boscarino for rebecca._

 _please, try to leave a review! they're a huge encouragement._

 _thank you,_  
\- **Lee | Fina**


	3. dorks in love

**polyvore** : malia and lydia's outfits are posted on my polyvore ( **sarcasticfina** )  
 **word count** : 9,196

* * *

 **-THREE-**

"Why can't you come?"

Lydia stands at Malia's closet, picking through it indecisively. "Because it's a _date_."

"Hardly. He's an infant."

"He's two years younger than you." Lydia raises an eyebrow back at her. "It doesn't have to be love at first sight. Just, go out, have fun, don't think about it too much."

Malia grumbles, "Said the girl who's been standing in my closet for almost an hour."

"There's so much plaid in here I think I'm getting hives." With a sigh, Lydia plucks a dark red top out and holds it in front of her, scrutinizing its shape and color. "This is cute," she decides. "You don't want to dress up too much. It's a concert. But you want to stand out and wear something you wouldn't usually wear at school."

Malia sits in her underwear on her desk chair, her hair dripping from a recent shower. "You know I'm not interested in this guy, right? Nothing's going to happen."

"It's not just about that. It's about getting out there. Other people will be at the concert; maybe you meet someone, maybe you don't. The _point_ is that you're not sitting around in your room, _moping_."

"I'm not moping." She frowns. "And we haven't even talked about what's going to happen tomorrow. I spent a whole week avoiding Scott and now I have to go to a movie with him."

"And dinner." Distracted, Lydia makes her way to Malia's dresser, digging around the drawers for a nice pair of black jeans. "Anyway, you won't be alone. Stiles and I will be there, too."

"Still…" Malia sighs. "I'm supposed to work on a history project this weekend. I'm partnered with Rebecca."

"Seriously?" Lydia looks up, her brows hiked. "Has she said anything?"

"About what?"

"About _Scott_." She stares at her in a 'duh' fashion. "She hasn't asked you for any tips or anything. I mean, you're one of his best friends. She didn't try to get anything out of you?"

"No. She just wanted to talk about the project." Malia shrugs. "I don't know what I would've said if she had… That'd be weird, right?"

"Depends. You can always sabotage their relationship…"

"Lydia!"

She shrugs. "It's just an _option_ … Anyway, you'd never do that. You'd probably talk Scott up so much she's willing to propose in the hallway."

"I would _not_."

Digging through her own jewelry, which she stopped at her house for specifically to help Malia get ready, Lydia scoffs. "You're Scott's number one fan."

"Am not."

"Honey…" Lydia looks over at her, both amused and kind. "He's your favorite person. It's okay. I was a little offended at first, but I get it."

"Feelings or not, we're just friends. I like Stiles, too!"

"Of course you do, but it's different with Scott. You light up when you talk about him. Which is why this last week has been especially sad… It's like a lightbulb's gone out."

Malia shrugs. "I miss him. And I feel bad that I made our friendship weird. I should be happy for him. Rebecca is really nice and he was pretty down after everything ended with Kira."

"He's been better lately." Lydia plays with a suede necklace absently. "Don't get me wrong, he was pretty upset after he and Kira broke up. She was, too. But, I think they're happier this way. They're still friends and things haven't been _too_ weird. It was worse after Allison. They weren't ready yet. They were still too deep, you know?"

"He loved her."

"Yeah. She loved him, too." Lydia stares at her a moment and sighs. "Look, I can't tell you how Scott feels or what's going to happen next month or next year. But, I know that Scott cares about you. Maybe it's not in the way you want or maybe the timing just isn't right. I don't know. But, I know that you deserve to be happy. I'm not saying Liam Dunbar is the answer to that. _Hardly_. But, it's one night. Of music and fun and someone to help take your mind off things."

Malia nods slowly. "Okay."

Lydia smiles. "Okay." She stands then. "Here, get dressed and then I can do your hair."

With an indulgent smile, she leaves her chair and walks to her bed, where her outfit is laid out in front of her. It's a far cry from the comfy clothes she usually wears, but it's not completely beyond her realm of comfort. She has no idea if tonight will be fun or a total bust, but she's willing to see it through either way.

* * *

Malia honks, idling in front of Liam's house, fiddling with the radio as she waits. He hurries out the door, still pulling on his jacket, and strides down the hill to her car. He grins, a little nervous, as he climbs into the passenger seat.

"Hey."

"Hi." She puts the car in 'drive' and pulls away from the curb. "Do you have a curfew or anything? The show goes until a little after ten, so…"

"I have to be back by around 11:30. You?"

She shrugs. "It's Friday, so my dad doesn't expect me home until midnight."

"Cool." He nods, tapping his fingers against his leg. "So, uh, you like Killer Coyote?"

"Yeah, they're good. They had a show last summer. I went with a few friends. How'd you hear about them?"

"My girlfriend—Uh, _ex_ -girlfriend really liked them." He shifts around in his seat. "Sorry, we split up before Christmas. It was a long-distance thing. And I probably shouldn't be talking about an ex, but…"

"It's fine." She shrugs. "What was she like?"

"Hayden? She was… great. Strong and smart and just, always knew what she wanted." His gaze falls to the dashboard. "She kind of hated me in the beginning. I had to work pretty hard to get her to give me a chance."

Malia hums. "So, why'd she dump you?"

"The distance, mostly. Her and her sister moved pretty far away. It's different, you know? When you can't touch them or be there when they need you."

She nods. "Sounds rough."

"Yeah, it was. But, I'm over it."

At her unconvinced look, he grimaces.

"Okay, I'm _getting_ over it."

Malia half-smiles. "I know the feeling."

"Yeah? You get dumped recently, too?"

Shaking her head, she pulls to a stop at a red light and drums her fingers against the steering wheel. "Not exactly. Just a poorly planned crush that blew up in my face…" Frowning, she says, "' _Crush_ ' is such a shitty word for it, too. I mean, it sounds like I'm some tween panting over Justin Bieber. But, in reality, I just confused a really important friendship for something else."

Liam nods. "I get that."

"Anyway, it's over and I just want to have fun tonight." She pulls through the newly green light and takes a breath. "So, I don't know about you, but I plan on dancing until my legs basically give out."

Liam grins. "Same."

"Great!"

* * *

The concert is being held in a warehouse that is definitely testing maximum capacity. While the makeshift bar is carding, a few people are passing around drinks to minors. Since she's driving, Malia sticks to water. She pushes her way deeper into the crowd for a better view of the stage. The warm-up band is unfamiliar but all right. Liam sticks close to her, head bobbing to the beat. She's a little more comfortable now, knowing that he's getting over someone, too. That maybe this 'date' is the same for him as it is to her, a way to let go of everything and move forward.

Malia loves dancing.

It gives her the same high that running does. She feels light and airy, adrenaline pumping, and every part of her body sparking with life and joy. She loses herself to the beat, her arms raised above her head as she twists and turns and forgets all about this last week of uncertainty and hurt and confusion. Neon lights flash across the crowd in every direction. For a moment, she's lost to color. Just a body, melding with everyone and everything around her. Sweat dots her skin and her hair feels too heavy against her neck, but she dances through it. Liam jumps along with her, laughing and cheering and letting loose.

As the warm up band finishes, Killer Coyote takes the stage and the cheering reaches a height that has her covering her eyes. Liam grins at her. He has a couple glow sticks around his neck and they give his face a neon glow. He's cute, she'll give him that. But young, too young. She remembers being a sophomore. It feels like an age ago. Back when Scott and Allison were still together and she was unwilling to admit that her feelings might be anything more than friendship. A part of her wishes she could still be that oblivious.

Malia throws herself back into the music. Because she knows these songs, she can sing along. It's much too loud to hear her voice, which only seems to meld with everyone else around her, but it feels good. Scream-singing at the top of her lungs. It's its own kind of release.

Last summer, she'd come to a concert just like this, packed in like sardines, with Scott, Lydia, Stiles, and Kira. She and Lydia had spent much of their time dancing with each other. But there were a few times, when the others retired from the floor to get a drink, that she and Scott found each other. Her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist, she could blame their closeness on the music and how it seemed to pull their bodies together, rocking along to a beat that felt like it was coiled around her bones, guiding her with unseen puppet strings. She should've known then. What the gravitational pull meant. Why her heart was pounding so hard. Why she lost her breath as their chests met in the middle and her gaze stuck on the slashes of neon paint across his cheeks, the ends leading to the corners of his lips. But when the song changed, they'd pulled away, laughed, and went in search of their friends.

She wonders if he remembers that dance the same way she does. If, for him, it was just innocent. Just two friends enjoying a song. But the more she thinks about it, the more she remembers the heat and the anticipation and the want for something so close but so far.

Giving her head a shake, she tries to bring herself back into focus, to staying in the moment. She looks ahead to the stage, where the lead singer of Killer Coyote is jumping up and down, her arm raised above her head. The flashing of lights almost hurts Malia's eyes; it makes the movement of the crowd seem strange and jarring. But it's all part of the experience. Her heart feels like it's absorbing the beat of the music, trying to pump in tune with everything around her. She loses her breath, but it only makes her laugh.

The stress of the last week seems to slough off, lost to the dance floor, eaten up by every move she makes. She closes her eyes and feels like she's floating away. A balloon left untethered, rising until it's lost in the rafters. But then a hand finds her elbow, tugging enough to catch her attention.

It's Liam, motioning to the bar and making a motion with his hand like he's getting something to drink.

Malia nods at him, watching as he cuts his way through the thick crowd. There's enough people waiting for service that he probably won't be back for a little while. She considers joining him, but then she catches sight of something. _Someone_. Brow furrowed, she stares through the moving arms and bodies, unsure if her imagination is playing tricks. But then she sees it again, a flash of brown skin and familiar black bands.

Malia moves, maneuvering around other dancers, searching for his face. But there are so many people that it feels impossible. A little lightheaded, she again wonders if maybe this is just a side-effect of what she'd been remembering earlier. As if in answer, the crowd parts enough for her to see him. In a black muscle tee, with blue and yellow bracelets on his wrists. He spots her, too. His gaze moving around her, like he's searching for someone, and then he's walking toward her. He has to duck and push his way to get to her, but he does.

She shakes her head when he's in front of her. "What are you doing here?" She has to yell to be heard, her voice easily lost to the noise around them.

"I wanted to talk to you!"

Her brow furrows. " _Here?_ "

"I…" Scott shakes his head. "I couldn't wait."

Malia steps a little closer. "Did something happen? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He nods. "I'm fine. I just…" He stares down at her and licks his lips. When he says something else, it's drowned out by a sudden increase in the music.

" _What?_ "

Scott reaches for her hand, towing her through the crowd until they're on the outer edges. They stand by a wall, behind a pillar, it blocks out enough noise that they can actually hear each other.

"I said I missed you," he tells her.

Malia feels her chest constrict. "I was just busy… with the test and the extra credit project."

"I know. It just felt like… I don't know, like maybe you were pulling away."

Her gaze darts away and then back; a pit of guilt opens in her stomach. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just—" _Healing_. "—overwhelmed."

"I get it. You're worried about school and you have Paris to look forward to. I…" He shakes his head. "I just keep thinking that we've only got a few months left and… Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to graduate, but I don't know what comes after that. Stiles is moving to DC. You're going to Paris."

"You have your coaching job and then Davis in the fall." She stares at him searchingly. "Where is all this coming from?"

"I— I just— I'm scared. I don't… I don't want to lose you to Paris."

Malia half-smiles, confused. "It's just for the summer. I'm coming back."

"I know. But, then I'll be in Davis and..." He sighs. "I'm saying this all wrong."

"Scott…" She reaches for him, a hand landing on his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. Not really. We can call and text and Facetime. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

He smiles faintly, but it fades quickly. "Do you remember the meteor shower?"

The change of topic throws her for a moment and her hands fall loose by her sides. "I… Yeah. In the lacrosse field… What about it?"

"I made a wish."

Malia nods. "For you mom and your dad, I remember."

"No, for something else. I should've said something back then. But, Kira and I just broke up. And I didn't know if you… I wasn't sure you could…" He clenches his teeth and shakes his head. "I just need you to tell me if this is what you want. If this— if Liam— if it makes you _happy_."

Malia stares at him, her brow furrowed. "I don't understand…"

Scott searches her eyes. He reaches for her, his hands on her wrists, and he draws her forward a few inches. The tips of his fingers skim the length of her arms, leaving a sheet of goosebumps in their wake. Malia swallows tightly as his touch teeters at her shoulders for a moment before they leave and she feels the warmth of his palms cupping her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks.

Malia can't hear the music now. All she can hear is her heart pounding in her ears.

As he leans forward, her breath catches.

His forehead meets hers and her vision is swallowed by his eyes. His face glows from the neon of his bracelets. "I freaked out a little, when you told me you were going to Paris. I- I panicked and I thought I was losing you before we even had a chance to… I did something stupid. Or I let it happen. And I regret it. Because I feel like ever since it happened, I can feel you slipping through my fingers and I don't know what to do."

She hooks her fingers in the hinges of his elbows. "Scott—"

"I just, I feel like I hurt you. And that… That's the last thing I want to do."

Malia's eyes burn and her mouth trembles.

"Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make it better."

She turns her gaze up in an effort to keep her tears from falling. She wants to say it's simple— _Love me. Want me. Be with me._ But love isn't something a person just _decides_ to do. She can't make him feel something he doesn't feel. She can't expect him to be with her just because her heart is broken. And she won't.

"You don't have to do anything." She shakes her head and takes his hands, pulling them from her face and rubbing her thumbs along his knuckles. Her chest feels tight and her smile hurts, so she pulls him forward and wraps her arms around his neck. "You're my best friend," she says, her mouth brushing his ear. "You always will be."

His arms ring her waist and _squeeze_. His hands splay across her back, fingers dug in, and she hates that a part of her loves it so much. Being this close, feeling this intensity between them. Because as close as they are, she feels like she's saying goodbye.

"Hey."

Malia startles and pulls back, turning to see Liam standing a few feet from them. He waves a couple bottles of water.

"I grabbed you one. I thought you might be thirsty, too."

"Yeah." She nods and steps toward him, taking the offered bottle. "Thanks."

"Sure." Liam looks from her to Scott and back.

"I should go," Scott says, his brow furrowed.

"The set's not even half over." Malia shakes her head. "You love Killer Coyote."

He half-smiles, but it's small and empty. "It's been a long week." He brushes his hand against her arm as he passes her. "We're still on for tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course." She nods. "You still owe me fries and a milkshake."

He pauses for a moment and meets her eyes. "The biggest one they've got."

She grins. "Exactly."

Scott nods, his gaze falling, and then he leaves. She watches him make his way around the outskirts of the crowd, en route to the exit. Eventually, she feels Liam's stare boring into her. Busying herself taking a drink of her water, she finally sighs. "What?"

"I thought you said your crush wasn't returned."

Malia frowns. "It isn't."

"You're into Scott, aren't you?" His brow knits. "I don't know what kind of mixed signals you're getting, but generally, a guy doesn't track down a friend when he thinks she's on a date for a hug and some intimate whispering."

"He didn't whisper intimately." She rolls her eyes. "He was just upset because I've been avoiding him all week and he thought our friendship was on the rocks."

"Right…" Liam raises an eyebrow. "And that part about basically admitting he wanted to be with you after he broke up with Kira…?"

"Okay, a) eavesdrop much? And b) you must've misheard him. He never said that."

"Not in so many words, but he was definitely _trying_ to…" Liam shakes his head. "Hey, I'm not here to judge. If you want to act out some weird star-crossed lovers stuff, go ahead. But as someone who seriously misses his girlfriend and can only _wish_ we were as close as you and Scott just were, I think you might need to re-evaluate your idea of friendship. And also what, exactly, you think Scott feels for you."

Malia frowns. "You don't know him like I do."

"No, I don't. Which is why I'm not biased when I say that a guy doesn't do _this_ —" He reaches out and cups her face in one hand, but the tenderness and the intimacy of how Scott had done it seems absent here. "—to a girl he doesn't want to kiss."

Malia looks down at his hand—or, more aptly, his wrist—and then raises an eyebrow at him. "In your dreams, Dunbar."

Rolling his eyes, Liam drops his hand. "Not _me_. I just making a point. Not that I don't appreciate the free concert. I thought we were having a pretty good time. But, I think we're both in a weird place. I'm trying to get over my ex and you're in denial about your thing with Scott, so."

"I'm not in denial." She grits her teeth and glares at him. "The music is loud and you clearly misheard and misread the situation."

"Or you're completely oblivious."

"What I am is done with this conversation. I don't know what _you_ plan on doing, but I plan on spending the rest of my night _dancing_. And very much _not_ thinking about everything you just said."

Moving past him, she marches back into the crowd. But her mood of earlier has long passed and she finds it hard to get back into the groove of things. Knocking back her water, she focuses on the music and tells herself that it's okay, nothing's changed. Come tomorrow, she, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia will be back to their usual selves. Friends and nothing more.

* * *

"Are you still mad at me?"

Malia glares at Liam, sitting across from her inside a McDonalds. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, you bought me a kid's meal…" He flicks the box his food came in. "Also, you keep glaring at me."

"I'm not glaring." She's definitely glaring. "And you should be happy. Your meal came with a toy. Be careful with it; they're a choking hazard."

Liam rolls his eyes. "You just don't like hearing the truth."

"Okay, you don't even _know_ the truth!" She stabs a fry in his direction. "You're just making wild guesses based on _one_ conversation."

He shrugs. "It was a pretty intimate conversation…"

"Scott doesn't have feelings for me." Her brows hike. "If he did, he wouldn't have been kissing Rebecca Hanks on Monday, all right?"

Liam pauses. "He has a girlfriend?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I just… I saw them. And I left. Because I panicked and I was literally about to pour my heart out to him like some kind of heartsick dork. And there he is, kissing someone else." She shakes her head. "If you know Scott, you know he doesn't do stuff like that lightly. He takes relationships seriously. Which means that while I was freaking out about the fact that I have a crush on him, he liked someone else. Which is… _awesome_. Good for him. But it sucks. For me, it _sucks_. So, having you tell me that he feels something different when I've just spent four days trying to get over him is _not_ helping."

He stares at her a moment and then nods. "Okay."

"Okay." She sighs, her shoulders slumping, and dips a chicken nugget into some barbecue sauce.

"But, just for the record…" Liam leans forward, arms stacked together on top of the table. "You're right, I don't know Scott like you do. And I don't know what the whole thing with Rebecca was. I'm not defending it either. I'm just saying that what I saw tonight, between you two, that's big. And, I don't know, maybe you shouldn't give up just yet."

Malia stares at him a beat and shakes her head. "You can't fight for someone if you already lost them."

"Says who?"

* * *

The following morning, Malia wakes up to a headache. She isn't sure if it's a side-effect of all the loud music the night before or just general misery. Either way, she drags herself out of bed and shuffles into her kitchen, pouring herself a bowl of Froot Loops before slumping onto her couch and flicking through the channels for something to watch. She settles on a wild life documentary and takes her time fully waking up. Her eyes are a little fuzzy and her mouth tastes like cotton. She drinks the sugary milk from her bowl and contemplates a shower when her phone buzzes for attention.

Grabbing it off the couch cushion next to her, she thumbs it open and stares at Rebecca's name for a moment. With a sigh, she opens her message.

— ' _Hey, just wanted to check in and see how you're doing on your end of the project! Let me know if you need anything_.'

A finishing smiley face mocks Malia.

Considering she hasn't had a chance to work on the project _at all_ , she considers just ignoring it. But then the night before comes back to her—a mixture of things Scott and Liam said. And she finds herself wondering if she can ask Rebecca about this or if it's overstepping a line. But, she wants to know. She kind of needs to. She thinks, if Rebecca can just confirm what she's already thinking—that Rebecca and Scott are together—then she can get some closure on this whole confusing mess.

Which is what she tells herself as she thumbs in a reply— ' _Hey. Can I ask you something? It's a little off topic and might sound weird_ …'

Malia stares at the phone for a solid minute, waiting on a response and regretting her choices.

A bubble appears to show Rebecca is replying and she holds her breath.

— ' _Sure. What's up?_ '

Malia types it out and deletes it a few times, before eventually setting on— ' _Scott_.' To which she then adds— ' _McCall_.'

Rebecca doesn't answer and Malia starts coming up with ways to back track. But then, her phone rings. Malia panics. She almost doesn't answer, until she realizes how dumb that would be. Obviously, Rebecca knows she has her phone on her. So, with a wince, she hits the 'Answer' button. "Uh, hey."

"Hey," Rebecca greets. "Sorry, I know it's weird etiquette to call when you're texting, but this kind of felt serious, so…"

"Oh. Yeah, sure. Um…" She runs a hand through her hair awkwardly, only to get her fingers tangled in a few knots. "I was just…"

"Did he tell you that I kissed him? Is that what this is about? Is he like, worried that I'm going to start some kind of rumor or something? Because I thought we figured things out after it happened."

Malia blinks, confused. "Huh?"

"I'm not a gossip. I don't like games like that. He was really good about everything and, I mean, it sucks to get rejected, but I'm okay."

Malia's opens her mouth to reply, but isn't quite sure what she's supposed to say. "I'm sorry," she offers, but it comes out more like a question than anything.

"It's cool. He's a really good guy and I liked him. I still do. We share a couple classes and I thought there was something there, but clearly I was reading it wrong."

Malia shakes her head. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, I thought we were flirting and he thought we were just being friendly. It sucks, but I'll get over it."

"Yeah, sure, of course."

"He was a great kisser, though." Her voice lightens, like she's sharing gossip with a close friend, and Malia feels bad. She and Rebecca aren't really friends and she's essentially digging for information on someone who is. It just feels wrong somehow. "Can't blame a girl for trying."

Malia thinks back to the kiss— to the way they were standing and holding onto each other— and wonders if she misread the situation. "So, _you_ kissed _him?_ "

"He didn't tell you?" She continues before Malia can reply, "I knew he wasn't seeing anyone. Not since Kira. But like I said, I thought he liked me back, so I made the first move. Anyway, he was totally good about it. He explained that he was really into someone and he's sorry if he led me on. It's fine; no hard feelings."

Nodding, Malia slumps back against the couch and rubs a hand over her forehead, wishing she'd taken something for that headache she woke up with that feels like it's turning into a full-blown migraine. "Well, that's good, I guess…"

"Yeah. Could've gone worse." Rebecca pauses. "Is that why you were a little weird yesterday? I know you guys are friends and I don't want him to think I'm going to like, talk shit about him or something. He was really nice about everything. And I swear, I don't go throwing myself at every guy I meet."

"Yeah, no, it's fine. He's not worried about that."

"Okay, well, cool. So, we're good then? No weirdness?"

"No, no weirdness at all. I, uh, I'm just getting started on the project now. I was at a concert last night. Have you made any progress?"

Willing to let the subject drop and move on to school, Rebecca says, "Yeah, I just started, too."

They spend another ten minutes discussing the project before they hang up and Malia lets out a full-body sigh. She drops her phone to her stomach and tries to understand everything that's happened in the last 24 hours. Yesterday, she'd been so sure about what she saw between Scott and Rebecca. She had been sure about his feelings— or lack thereof— toward her. But now she's thinking about that moment, when they were so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth. She's thinking about other moments she might've misunderstood. Things her friends have said, that Scott's said, that she shrugged off.

 _'I would use up a whole meteor shower if it meant you could be happy.'_

 _'I really think if you let Scott know you're interested, you'd be surprised.'_

 _'Malia, you—'_

 _'Is falling for a friend really that weird?'_

 _'I can feel you slipping through my fingers and I don't know what to do.'_

 _'Maybe you shouldn't give up just yet.'_

It's small, that spark of hope that she's been stomping on all week, but it's there, and it's growing.

* * *

When Malia opens the front door, it's to be greeted by a frowning Lydia, who pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, points at her and says, "You have cereal on your shirt." She then brushes past Malia into her house and pivots on her feel, the skirt of her dress swishing around her legs. It's almost annoying how effortlessly put together Lydia always looks. "What's up?"

Malia brushes a dried Fruit Loop off her shirt and frowns. "We need to talk."

"Okay…" Lydia's brow furrows. "About?"

"Last night."

"How was it?"

"Fine, I guess." Malia shrugs and makes her way to the couch, plopping down on it. "The pre-schooler you set me up with is getting over his ex-girlfriend, but he was all right."

Lydia rolls her eyes. She takes a seat next to Malia and crosses her legs at the knee. "Anything else happen?"

"The concert was great." Malia stares at her. "And Scott might've shown up."

"Might have?"

"All right, he did. And we talked about some things, only not really. _He_ was talking and I think he was trying to tell me something, but I'm starting to think I misinterpret everything…"

Lydia admires her nails. "Hm. What'd he say?"

"A lot of stuff. That he missed me this week and he thought he was losing me. I felt bad because I've been avoiding him and then he was talking about Paris and Davis and making some kind of mistake…" She shakes her head. "Anyway, Liam found us and after Scott left, he told me Scott has a thing for me. Which, I denied—"

"Of course you did."

Malia frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've been sure about Scott's feelings from the very beginning. This whole thing started when you asked me how to get over him. Not how to tell him how you felt or how to move from friends to something else. You just _decided_ he wouldn't want to be with you."

"Okay, well, that was slightly helped by the fact that I saw him kissing Rebecca," she defends.

"Yes, and I still have no idea how that happened. But the fact remains, you never talked to him." Shifting in her seat to face her better, Lydia reaches out and takes Malia's hand. "You were prepared for a 'no' before you ever got it."

"I was just trying not to get my hopes up!"

Lydia sighs. "I'm going to say this one time, because I really don't think you need someone on the outside spelling it out for you… I've seen how Scott looks at you. I've heard how he talks about you. And it's the exact way you look at and talk about _him_."

Her shoulders fall. "I'm scared."

"I know." Lydia squeezes her hand. "But you know a good cure for that…? Facing your fears."

Slowly, Malia nods. "How?"

Lydia grins. "Come on." Standing, she tows Malia into her bedroom and toward her closet. "You trust me, right?"

Malia purses her lips. "Yes," she admits reluctantly.

"Good."

* * *

When Malia gets to the diner, only Scott is sitting at a booth near the back corner, tapping at the screen of his phone. Lydia had gone home after helping her pick out an outfit, saying she'd meet up with them at 8. They're supposed to get dinner together before heading to the theater. She fiddles with her purse, opening and closing the flap nervously, and makes her way down the aisle toward him. He looks up and their eyes meet. A slow smile pulls up one side of his mouth and Malia feels her heart stumble.

"Hey," she greets, sliding into the opposite side of the booth. "Stiles isn't here yet?"

"Uh, he just texted me. He can't make it." He waves his phone before putting it aside. "I guess we're just waiting on Lydia."

She nods and crosses her ankles together. "I still have no idea what movie we're going to see."

"Uh, me either." His brow furrows. "I can look it up. See what's playing at 9:30."

"It's fine. Lydia's usually got good taste in movies."

"Usually." He grins. "Because you hated Pan's Labyrinth."

"Okay, I don't have anything against foreign films or subtitles. I just feel like I spend so much time reading the dialogue that I miss what's happening. So, when I look up and people have eyes on their hands, it's a little confusing."

"I think you fell asleep in that movie…"

"I did." She laughs. "I woke up drooling on your shoulder."

"Happened a few times, I think." He taps his hands against the table. "How, uh, how was the concert?"

"It was good. We left before they came out for an encore. Got dinner at McDonalds."

"Cool, cool…" He nods. "Liam's a nice guy. He's on the lacrosse team. I think he'll make captain next year."

"Yeah, he's all right. Talks about his ex-girlfriend a lot. Hayley or Harley or something like that."

"Hayden." Scott's brow furrows. "Really?"

"I guess he's still pretty broken up about it." She shrugs. "Anyway, I sent him home with a happy meal toy and some glow sticks."

"No kiss goodnight?"

She looks up at him, and she can see the wince that says he regrets asking and wants to take it back. "No. No kiss. Are you kidding? He's like, a fetus."

Scott lets out a huff of a laugh. "He's only a couple years younger…"

"Do you remember what we were like at 16?" Malia's nose scrunches up. "We were _babies_."

He ducks his head as he smiles. "Didn't feel like it at the time."

"No. We kind of felt invincible."

A waitress appears next to them then and puts down a giant chocolate milkshake and a large plate of fries. "Here ya go. Can I get you anything else?"

Malia looks up at her, surprised, and then turns a look on Scott.

"We're good for right now, thanks." As the waitress leaves, he grabs a fry and blows on it. "I told her you were on your way and asked her to throw the fries on when you sat down. This is also the biggest milkshake they were willing to make, so…"

Malia pulls her milkshake toward her and stirs the straw. "Five days overdue isn't too bad."

He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. "How's that extra credit project going?"

"Mostly done. When I wasn't studying for the math test, I was working on that, so, at least it's been a productive week…"

"Yeah, I… I texted you a few times, but you were pretty busy."

Swallowing a mouthful of milkshake and hoping it doesn't give her brain freeze, she takes a deep breath. "I kinda wanted to talk to you about that…"

Scott, who's been picking at the fries, dusts the salt from his hands. "Is this about last night? Because I'm sorry that I showed up like that and just crashed your date. It was weird and I wasn't thinking and I just kind of…"

"Kind of what?"

"I meant what I said. I felt like I hadn't seen you all week and you were pulling away and I just… _panicked_. And I know that's no excuse, showing up like some jealous boyfriend or something. But… I kept thinking about you two at the concert and then I remember when we went last summer." He looks away, past her shoulder, his brow furrowed in thought. "The music was so loud and there was so many people, but when we were dancing together, it was like… It was just us. And you were smiling at me, you were so happy, and I just remember thinking that I always wanted you to feel like that. That I hoped I'd always be there to see it."

Malia swallows tightly and stares at him searchingly. He still won't meet her eyes, but it's okay. "You do make me happy. Some of my best memories are with you." She reaches across the table and covers his hand. "If this is about Paris and Davis—"

"It isn't. Not totally." He shakes his head, his gaze falling to their hands, where her fingers gently press against his wrist. "I mean, it's part of it. Part of why I freaked out. Because I don't want us to drift apart. I know Paris is big and that you deserve it and I don't want you _not_ to go. I just… I spent four days not talking to you and it _sucked_. So, the idea of not seeing or talking to you for two months is…"

"Shitty. I know." Malia gathers up her courage and admits, "I was a jerk. I… I was avoiding you and it wasn't just because of school."

Scott looks up then. "What?"

"Can we go somewhere?"

"Uh…" His eyes dart, confused. "Right now? But, what about the movie? And Lydia?"

"I don't think she's coming. I'm pretty sure the reason Stiles didn't is her fault, too." Malia shifts out of the booth, taking the fries and shake with her. "Come on. I'm getting these to go."

Scott takes a minute to follow, clearly unsure about the change in plans and what she has in mind. But, that's okay, because she doesn't want to have this conversation here. She stops at the front counter and asks the waitress to put her milkshake in a to-go cup and her fries in a box. She's not wasting perfectly good food.

After Scott pays, they make their way out to the parking lot and hop in her car. They'll have to come back for his bike later, she thinks absently.

As he's clipping his seat belt, he wonders, "Where are we going?"

She chews on the end of her straw as she pulls out onto the road. "Memory lane."

It takes them about fifteen minutes to reach the school, much of which they spend singing along—completely off-tune—to the radio and eating the rest of the fries. They leave the comfort of her car to walk across the lacrosse field.

"Okay…" Scott looks back at her. "Why the change of venue?"

She shrugs. "Privacy."

He looks amused; brows arched and a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "You've got a secret you wanna share?"

"Kind of." She kicks at the grass and blurts out, "I saw you on Monday."

He stares at her a beat and then his face clears. "With Rebecca."

"Yeah."

It takes a him a second, opening his mouth to say more, pausing, and reconsidering. Eventually, he tells her, "She kissed me. I wasn't really expecting it."

"At the concert, you said you did something stupid. Was that it?"

"Yeah." He nods. "Rebecca's great. She's a good person. And when she kissed me, I… I didn't stop her. I kept thinking that you were going to Paris and we'd lose touch and I don't know. She was there and she made a move and… It felt good. To be wanted. It's not really a good reason, I just… I felt bad after, I told her it wasn't her, it was me. Which is so cliched, but I meant it."

"I talked to her. She's fine with it. Says you're a good kisser and there's no hard feelings."

He half-smiles. "Good."

Malia hugs her arms around herself, her half-empty milkshake dangling from one hand. "I was at Lydia's last weekend. We were studying and talking and… I asked her how to get over someone. I was hoping she had some cure-all to feelings, which, not the most logical plan, but… I don't know. It felt like a last resort, since they weren't going away on their own." She shrugs. "She didn't have one, obviously. Her ideas ran more along the lines of 'just tell him you like him, Malia, and everything will turn out okay.' And, I thought about it. I spent the whole weekend thinking about all the right and wrong ways it could go… I psyched myself up and decided okay, yes, I'll tell him that I… think he's amazing and _smart_ and funny and… Maybe he likes me back and we walk off into the sunset like dorky Disney characters getting their happily ever after… Only, actually saying those words is like pulling teeth so I keep putting it off, and then the end of the day comes and we're supposed to get fries and milkshakes and I think, this is it. Perfect timing…"

Realization dawns on his face and his mouth parts.

"And there you are, with Rebecca, and I just… Froze. You know?" She shakes her head. "It was stupid and immature, but I… _ran_. I sent you that text and I went home and I just… _kicked myself_ for almost doing something so… big and dumb and… I don't know. After that, I felt so stupid and I couldn't look at you or be around you. I just wanted some space so I could get over it and _you._ But, Lydia was everywhere, trying to be supportive by setting me up with all these random people. I wasn't even interested in dating anyone, but Lydia was sure that if I could just meet someone else everything would be okay again. And then she was introducing me to Liam and telling us we were going to the concert and you were there and it all happened so _fast_. I couldn't back out because that would be weird and it was just a concert, so I thought hey, at least it'll get me out of the house and Lydia kept telling me I was moping…" She frowns. "I didn't go into it thinking it was a _date_ -date. It was just music and this boy I barely know and it was fine. It was fun. But then, you were there and you were saying all these confusing things and… I don't know what it means. I don't know if I'm reading into it or I'm grasping at straws or what's happening. But, Lydia and Stiles think we should just talk, so, this is me… _Talking_."

Silence fills the space between and around them, until Malia feels the itchy desire to run again. Bury her head under her pillow and pretend this never happened. She's never really considered herself a coward. But there are some things, some fears, that feel so acute that it's hard not to want to avoid them.

Finally, Scott wonders, "How long?"

"Maybe always. I didn't really figure it out until the meteor shower…"

He nods, slow and thoughtful. "I wished for you… I know you can't really wish to _have_ a person. But when it was happening and we were laying there, I wished that I could be the person that made you happy. That… I'd be there for all the best parts of your life and you'd be there for mine. So, I made a wish and… I chickened out. Because everything with Kira was still so raw and I didn't want you to think that I was just transferring everything over to you. I thought, I'll give it a few months and then I'll tell her that I like her. But then it was January and I started thinking about what comes next and I was worried that if we did get together and I was in Davis and you were here or somewhere else, then we'd break up and I'd lose you. And I'd rather have you as a friend than nothing at all." He sighs. "When you mentioned Paris, I realized I was gonna lose you either way. And then Rebecca was kissing me and I think I was pushing you away without even realizing it."

She shakes her head. "You didn't owe me anything. If you liked Rebecca—"

"But I didn't. I liked you before the meteor shower. I… I've always liked you. But, I was with Allison in the beginning. Don't get me wrong, because she was my first love. But, I knew when I met you that something was different. That _you_ were different. I just wasn't ready to figure out what that meant. So, I… I was with Allison and then I met Kira and… I don't regret that. I loved them and… I don't know, I think sometimes you find people that fit who you are in that moment and it just works. Then the moment ends and you let them go… And maybe you and me, we just weren't ready for each other yet. But, you were always there. You always mattered to me. For a long time, I just didn't think you could even like me that way."

She frowns. "Why?"

" _Because_ …" He smiles. "Malia, you're so smart and confident and funny. And I know you don't always see that about yourself, but I do. I see how hard you work at school and how much you love your dad and how loyal you are to your friends. You kick my ass when I need it, but you're also one of the kindest people I know. You stood up for Lydia when everything went wrong with Jackson and that was before you two were even close. You dragged me out of my room after Allison and I broke up. You willingly watch Star Wars with Stiles on the anniversary of his mom's death every year. Even though I know you _hate_ those movies. And… you wanted to waste a wish on my lungs." He shakes his head. "Somehow that ranked as high as your mom and Kylie and your dad. I don't think you even know how much you care about other people and how you show it, but you do."

Malia shifts her feet then. She's not gonna lie— he's saying everything she's ever wanted to hear. All the right things. The hurt and anger of the last week is lost in the wake of realizing she's not the only one. That he cares about her as much as she does him. That they can have a real chance at being _something_. Except… "So, what happens then? What if we're just a moment and it's like you said… We try this and it blows up in our face and… We lose each other."

"I don't know. I wish I did," he admits. "But, I know that if we ignore it or we just let each other go, then we'll regret it."

She stares at him a moment, indecision and hope and excitement duke it out inside her.

Taking a deep breath, he walks toward her, stopping when they're inches apart. He takes the milkshake from her hand, placing the cup on the grass below. When he stands, his fingers gently brush against hers. "I'm sorry I took so long. But, I'm here now. I'm ready _now_. And I think that if we do this, we can make it work. It's like you said, we can call and text and Facetime over the summer. After that, we'll figure it out…"

It's not a guarantee, not really. Maybe it really does blow up in their faces.

—Or maybe it doesn't.

Scott leans forward, the tip of his nose grazing hers.

—Maybe they talk every day while she's in Paris.

His hand slides of her waist and up her back, drawing her a little closer, until their hips meet.

—Maybe she sends him post cards from every touristy place she visits and he sends her snapchats of lacrosse practice.

Her breath stutters at the first brush of his mouth against her own.

—Maybe she comes home a week before summer ends and Davis begins and they spend every day together.

She skims her fingers up his neck and into his hair, holding on tight as their parted lips slant together; gentle at first, until they're sure the other feels it, too. That pull and heat and exhilarated joy.

—Maybe she wakes up in his bed on a hazy morning and realizes she loves this goofy, handsome, gentle person. Her _best_ friend. Maybe she whispers the words, just in case he's not ready and sleep can steal them away to save her some embarrassment. And maybe he smiles and kisses her neck and mumbles 'I love you, too' against her skin.

They push and pull at each other, his hand cupping her chin and hers resting over his fast-beating heart. And they can't get close enough, despite a lack of space left to occupy. They're tangled and warm and they fit. The tips of her fingers gently slide down his cheek and she can feel him smile against her mouth. Her heart leaps and she follows.

—Maybe they find a way to make it work and it's the best choice they ever make.

Malia opens her eyes to find him staring back at her, eyes soft and adoring. And she thinks this is what Lydia meant. That he looks at her like she does him. Dopey, sweet, and unfiltered.

He kisses her one more time, a peck more than anything, and says, "Your milkshake's melting."

Malia laughs. She steps back so she can bend and pick it up and takes a long sip.

Scott takes her hand and leads her farther across the lacrosse field. They lay down in the grass together to face the sky, their hands tangled. There are no meteors to be found, but if a shooting star happens to pass them by, they find one less thing on their wish list.

* * *

Come Monday, Malia finds herself walking down a busy hallway, hand in hand with Scott. She knows the smile she's sending him is beyond dorky, but she doesn't care. She's happy. They pass Liam and Mason on the way. Liam's brows hike when he notices them and he grins at her knowingly. She rolls her eyes, but her mood is still somewhere in the clouds, so she can't be bothered to glare.

By the time they reach her locker, Stiles and Lydia are waiting on them.

Arms crossed, Lydia smirks rather proudly. "I see you two talked."

Malia shakes her head, more amused than anything. "Like that wasn't your plan the whole time…"

"Sometimes people just need a good push. I saw an opportunity and I took it." She shrugs. "You two did the hard work, finally getting over all your fears and taking a chance. I just made sure there was ample time to make it happen."

Stiles grins, his thumbs looped in the straps of his bag. "For the record, I told you guys to do that from the beginning."

Scott snorts, but tells Lydia, "I guess we should thank you."

"You're welcome. And one more thing…" She flips open her purse and digs out a collection of papers that she then hands to Malia. "Consider it an early graduation gift." With that, she sashays down the hall.

Stiles claps Scott's shoulder, winks at Malia, and then follows after her.

"What is it?" Scott wonders.

Malia unfolds the papers to see ' _Application for Admission to Napa Valley College Criminal Justice Training Center_ ' written across the top in block letters.

Scott's brows arch. "Napa's only about an hour's drive from Davis."

She smiles slowly. "Yeah. It is."

"We can check out the website at lunch, see if it's the right fit."

"I'd like that."

The bell rings then, demanding they head to class.

"I'll see you at break?" He ducks to press a kiss to her cheek.

Malia turns to catch his lips and lingers there a moment, her hand on his chest. His settle on her hips, thumbs rubbing back and forth. It's warm and intimate and so easy to get lost in.

He presses his forehead to hers and lets out a shaky breath. "What am I doing?"

The corners of her mouth turn up slowly. "Going to class."

"Right. Class." But he doesn't lean away. "School's important."

She laughs and gives his chest a little push. "We'll pick this up on break."

He backs away, smiling. "Promise?"

Malia nods. "Promise."

As Scott leaves, she turns back to her locker to dig out what she needs for first period and put her bag away. She reaches in the pocket of her jacket for her phone when she finds something else. Something thin and round. Pulling it out, she finds a yellow glow-stick bracelet. Staring at it, a slow grin forms on her mouth. That absolute _dork_ … Sliding it onto her wrist, she closes her locker and basically floats to class.

If she sees him at break and he's wearing a matching blue bracelet, well, there's no one she'd rather be a dork with than him.

* * *

 **end**

* * *

 **author's note** : _considering this was all told from malia's pov, i feel like scott's feelings had to be carefully threaded throughout. so, i do hope that his crush on her came through in the first couple chapters via his own actions and things lydia and stiles said. i didn't want it to be too obvious at first, but i did want there to be a sort of 'wait, this is not as unrequited as malia thinks it is' thing happening. hence, the conversation with stiles in last chapter is carefully constructed in a way that suggests stiles knows scott has feelings for malia and actually believes malia doesn't return them and that's why she's been avoiding them all week, except malia thinks everything he's saying is actually in reference to her having a crush on scott and thinking it's not requited. anyway, i do hope that came across, otherwise scott's declarations of feelings might seem out of the blue. /awkward_

 _also, i again want to put out there that i am thinking of posted the season 1 rewrite with malia there from the very beginning and i'm curious to know if people want that to get start before or after the series finale. so, please let me know your thoughts on that. as i am a little concerned people are not going to be reading as much TW fic after the show ends. :(_

 _i do hope you enjoyed this. i have to say, it's one of my favorites. i have more scalia fics planned, for sure. including one that sees malia raised as a hale. so, keep an eye out and please try to leave a review! :) they're a huge encouragement._

 _finally, a huge thanks to everyone that lefts comments and kudos and reblogged this on tumblr, i seriously appreciate all of your support!_

 _thank you for reading!_  
\- **Lee | Fina**


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